Family valued 12.22.04

Mister Magoo's Christmas Carol

Well, all the old Christmas chestnuts are airing constantly
these days. The good news is that you can rent or borrowing them and avoid
commercials. Among my parent posse, the two that get the most props are Chuck
Jones's rollicking 1966 adaptation of Seuss's How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and the almost elegiac A Charlie Brown Christmas. I'm down with
those.

But for my money, the greatest Christmas special ever came
out in 1962, and it seems most people haven't seen it: Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol. Abe Levitow, Barbara Chain, and Jule
Styne aren't names that pop out at you, but they directed, wrote, and composed
songs, respectively, for an absolute classic. Magoo the actor stumbles through
the street into a theatre, where he bumbles his way through costume and makeup
to get on stage for his performance as Scrooge. Once the curtain rises, we live
in the world of Dickens, condensed to the essentials.

The marriage of Magoo and Scrooge is absolutely inspired,
and Jim Backus gives his greatest performance. But it's the songs that separate
the work. "We're Despicable" had my kids singing it the first time they heard
it. And I'm always torn up by the young Magoo's lament, "A hand for each hand
was planned for the world / Why don't my fingers reach? / Millions of grains of
sand in the world / Why such a lonely beach?"

If you know it, revisit it with your kids. If not, you have
a treat in store.

Eating together

The Cleaver family never actually existed. For those old
enough to remember Leave it to Beaver, the cast of that early situation comedy
seemed a real family, not unrelated TV actors. Ward, June, Wally, and Theodore,
the Beaver, played a perfect family. They ate family meals during which key
plot issues were raised. Of course, what really happened during Leave it to
Beaver was hundreds of thousands of American families sat at their folding TV
tables, consumed snack food, and didn't talk while they watched a TV
pseudo-family share a meal and have a scripted "meaningful conversation." It
was the beginning of the end.

It is increasingly rare for families to share meals.
Schedules, homework, sports, meetings, errands, phone calls, and, of course,
TV, all compete with communal meals and meaningful conversations. What's more,
since none of us ever achieved Cleaver family perfection, we've nearly given up
on the family dinner. The well-publicized epidemic of disordered eating among
young people in the US has deep roots in the loss of family mealtimes.

We don't have to eat the same food. It doesn't have to be at
the same time each day. We don't have to be in a good mood. We don't have to
have a family meeting. We don't need to resolve key issues in a scripted
situation comedy. We really don't have to talk too much. We do need to have a
sanctified time during which we share sustenance, pause in the push of every
day imperatives, prepare food together, and become a family that nourishes each
other for a few moments.